


you, me, and the devil makes two

by babeofwrath



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Body Horror, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Graphic Description, Horror, In a way, M/M, Slow Burn, eating people??? idk what to specify, i guess there's some cannibalism too....technically, idk if the 1570s count but so it has been written so it shall be, kakashi is lawful evil in this, this is very explicit and falls heavily into the horror genre tread carefully please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-03-26 20:46:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babeofwrath/pseuds/babeofwrath
Summary: Something is out there, lurking in the shadows of the woods, at the periphery of existence, cursed in every way. Konoha is in the middle of those woods, scared and isolated, and Iruka is their newest priest. Kakashi, the only fur trapper for miles, lives alone in the surrounding forest, far off the path and hidden through many valleys, in a tangle of trees thicker than blood. Both men hold secrets buried deep in their hearts and will learn that, in combination, they are far more terrifying that anything imaginable.





	1. harvest moon

**Author's Note:**

> hello! welcome to the newest kakairu au i have planned so far!! i love me some monsterboys, and there's a serious lack of werewolf kakashi fics out there, so here's my two cents. i also tried my hardest to make it seem like it was in a historical setting, but i didn't want to make the dialogue so old-timey that it was hard to understand
> 
> just a fair warning: this story contains graphic depictions of violence (including cannibalizing someone) and transformations that could be considered body horror, so tread carefully if that may upset you. 
> 
> thank you again for your continued support! if you like this story please comment and let me know, i love hearing back from y'all!! :)

Fire Country was beautiful in the fall. No one could quite remember what had earned it such a name, but many thought it had something to do with how the trees changed color, leaves starting their journey a fresh green, cycling with the gradient until they yellowed, falling once they burned a deep red, nothing but the embers of yet another season. It had its mountains, rolling hills of green and rivers, dotting the sea of red blanketing everything else, tree trunks proud in their silence that came from centuries of keeping watch. Most towns were trying to either preserve or sell the last of the autumn harvest, farmers growing wary as the sun lost its seat to the moon earlier each day and the dark evolved, a profound, pitch black that could not be cut, even with the flames of a torch or hearth. There were things out there, stronger, monstrous things that had the body of no creatures they knew, lurking and stalking them from the shadows, just beyond the reach of the light’s caress.  
  
It was well known that no one left their homes after nightfall. Even those who had swords, daggers, spears all fell, returning with mortal wounds grievous and plentiful, evidence of danger but with no face behind it. Villages far and wide learned to fear over the decades. Fear the outside. Fear the unknown. The countries ringing Fire Country also had their demons, and hard times fell upon them all. Decades passed into centuries, and the small hamlets soon turned into villages, meager yet hoping to grow. They built walls, taller than anything, be it man or otherwise, could climb. They set up watchtowers and signal towers to warn neighboring towns in the event of true emergency, a time no one wanted to think on, lest the worry festered it into being. No one dared live more than a stone’s throw apart and instead grouped together, low longhouses with thatched roofs rustling in the night breeze, brightly lit inside.  
  
This was the exact predicament the small township of Konohagakure faced. The changing of seasons had come suddenly, sooner in the year than what was considered normal, cold weather and ominous clouds materializing in the sky above with nary a warning. Konoha, as the residents called it when whispering in equal parts reverence and unease, was a small village in the middle of a lush valley, hidden between rolling hills in the only clearing in its part of the vast forest. Trees surrounded it on all sides, and rocky mountains eclipsed all else from view with their jagged peaks to the north, covered in a carved monument to precious town leaders that now kept silent watch over their descendants.  
  
In the center was the town hall, and clan compounds branched out from there, with the more affluent members of the community living closest to the center and furthest away from the walls. Newcomers were closest to the outside and did not remain for long. That was because Konoha had a problem. One that many had attempted to solve, but none could. Beyond the bastion of the safety of home, of the walls that rose up around them, was an evil that took many forms. But the creature that had stuck around, haunting the winding path that wound through the forest as of late was one the villagers were all too familiar with: a wolf.  
  
The panic had set in slowly, beginning with the sightings in the summer. As the weather reached its boiling point, more and more residents left Konoha, going to visit friends and relatives in the Land of Waves or Land of Water if they had any in a desperate attempt to escape the heat. Those leaving--or returning--at dusk, when the moon was reaching out its tendrils into the bright day, shadows of purple bruising the sky, would enter the forest surrounding the town, the lush foliage growing sparser as they approached. People said they had heard strange noises in the underbrush, feral and unhinged, low growls that made everyone’s blood run cold as it unlocked some primal dread, forcing the party to hurry their pace so they could leave the canopy of trees as quickly as they could. Then, several families returned, claiming to have seen what they thought was a wolf. However, this wolf was massive, hulking form materializing out of the humid air and onto the dirt path, light fur shimmering in the twilight haze.  
  
After that had been the children. Konoha and all its neighboring countries were no strangers to the danger of wolves. Packs prowled the woods, terrorizing the livestock before walls were constructed, feeding off those unfortunate enough to come across them during their travels. The rumors spread like the plague had centuries earlier, muttered in hushed tones that belied the fear hidden in each word, sending a twinge of horror through every mother’s brain, cautious to let their brood too far out of their sight. But, nature finds a way to outsmart even the most watchful parents; the wolves descended on the easiest prey available to them, now that the farmers were guarding their sheep like a dragon guards its hoard. Toddlers went missing, only for their mangled bodies to be found, mutilated beyond recognition minus scraps of torn clothing. Adolescents were targets as well as they tried to escape the suffocation terror brought into their homes. Several couples had left to go on a midday stroll in the woods, never to return.  
  
Those who had been fortunate enough to return from hunting came back as quickly as they had left, empty handed and quivering in the wake of what they had seen. Some claimed a wolf, larger than any bear, had come out of the forest, intent on taking their kill and possibly them as well, had they not fled. And, once the hunters and farmers had begun to show fear too, the town rioted. A giant bastion was built around the homes, with only one entrance in and out of the village in the very center that was watched by two men at all hours. The construction of the wall was laborious, made not from wood but from stones quarried in the mountains that lay to Konoha’s rear, stacked taller than any of the trees that surrounded it, turrets located in the three cardinal directions along the ring while craggy peaks to the north rounded out the wall, forming a natural fortification against potential enemies, human or not.  
  
However, fear still spread within the growing community, insidious branches thriving and taking root in the narrow space around everyone’s heart, winding through their ribs until it was an ever-beating tangle of unease. That nagging feeling in the back of Konoha’s collective head extended into all aspects of life, no matter how trivial. This was especially true of their attitudes towards outsiders: those who had recently moved to town, travelers passing through or resting for the night. But, above all, they feared those who lived outside the walls the most. No one sane would chose to do so, they reasoned, sharing concerned glances whenever one of the brave few wandered into town, small enough in number to be counted on one hand.  
  
Kakashi Hatake was one of them, and always had been, a solitary fur trapper and huntsman that lived with his nine dogs in a small cabin hidden deep in the forest. The trees were dense and impossible to navigate after dark without knowledge of the land, hills rising and serving to disorient, gnarled roots laying in wait to trip the unseasoned hunter or traveler, although few left the path unless needed. All sorts of creatures called this portion of the woods home, known in Konoha as the Forest of Death. Wolves, however, were not the only thing to be afraid of.  
  
Bears and wild boars roamed the trees, as well as other things, supernatural beings spoken of in the late hours of the night. Talk of witchcraft had begun to circulate, murmured in confidence between friends visiting from other lands. It was starting to send panic through the rural villages since there was always one member of the community who could name names, starting with neighbors. Entire towns had been razed due to the accusations, dozens of women led to the gallows if they were lucky and to the flames if they were not. Kakashi knew witches were real--they lurked in pockets of the forest, concealing their whereabouts from view until it was too late unless sought out for a benevolent purpose--but those the government hunted in a grand show of power were usually not so.  
  
There were also plenty of game animals that Kakashi hunted to sustain himself and his pack, like the timid deer that shakily made their way into the pocket of a clearing where his cabin stood. Kakashi had built a small shack behind it several years back to dry and clean the hides he sold, needing the extra room as the number of dogs he collected increased. His father had built the cabin before he was born, rough hewn cedar planks forming the floor that dipped in the middle with age. Sturdy logs stacked on top of each other made up the walls, ceiling higher than normal and giving the otherwise small room a spacious feel. The roof angled sharply to prevent snow from caving it in while a small strip of a porch lined the front, lone chair sitting on the wooden deck. There was a faded red brick chimney that rose up past the rooftop, keeping silent watch over the property.  
  
Dogs yipped around his ankles as Kakashi walked down the gentle hill into the clearing, raccoon and fox corpses slung over his left shoulder. He had gone out to check the traps he had set earlier that week, needing to replenish his stock to be able to keep selling their pelts deep into the winter if needed. The sun was just now high enough for thin light to reach him, growing brighter as he walked past the cabin, instead going into the shed to leave the carcasses on the workbench. The days had grown cold, with enough of a chill in the air that Kakashi felt comfortable leaving the bodies intact and going into town to sell the pelts he had on hand, possibly stocking up on some dry goods before it began to snow. He made one last stop, folding up the hides and tucking them into a simple rucksack along with a hunk of bread. Reaching for several hunting knives, he slid one into his boot, the other attaching to a sheath around his waist.  
  
“Akino, would you mind accompanying me on this trip?” Kakashi asked his largest dog, whose head tilted upon hearing his name, trotting over as fast as he could and waiting at the man’s heels. The rest of the dogs settled in the warm cabin, content to sleep after a day’s hunt. Chuckling, the duo left, chill morning air showing each breath they took climbing up the hill. They had to pick their way through the dense underbrush, Akino ahead of Kakashi, waiting when he could not see his owner. Kakashi tread carefully through tangles of roots, grey hair materializing out of the mist that still hovered in the woods and formed a thick fog in the valleys. His salt and pepper beard was full, having let it grow out over the previous month to cover some of the worse scars he had. He rubbed at it as they climbed, air thinning out as they crested the large hill that was steeper than it appeared. It was a decent journey to the town, and the sun hung high above by the time the dirt path to Konoha appeared. Turning left onto it, Kakashi watched as Akino ran in front, a russet colored blur, curled tail alert but content, sniffing at the crisp air as he stopped for a handful of seconds to look into a particular spot.  
  
Kakashi pulled out a small leather pouch and a pipe. At first glance, it seemed to be made of white clay, but, upon further inspection had actually been carved out of the shoulder end of a humerus that had been sawed to size, marks of violence carved into the sides. And that humerus had belonged to a human, based on the size and shape of the bone. A small bowl in the ball of it sat empty, opening carved through to the mouthpiece. Kakashi took a small pinch of tobacco out of his pouch, placing it in the hollow and then reaching through a small slit in the left side of his cloak to return the bag back to the pocket slung around his waist.  
  
Removing a tinderbox, he squatted and let the pipe rest in his mouth, right canines holding it in place as his lips curled into a snarl. He set a scrap of char cloth on the ground in front of him, striking a small piece of flint with a steel fire starter his father had used, the curved, pockmarked metal forming a teardrop shape with a small handle. Orange jumped from the flint onto the linen, coming alive as the cloth began to smoke, small flames budding along the edge. With deft fingers, Kakashi plucked it off the dirt, placing the smoking corner to the tobacco and pulling deeply. Ahead of him, Akino had stopped, curled tail alert as he looked back to his owner. Kakashi stood up, stamping out the flame with his worn black leather boots and returning it to his pocket once the smoldering had ceased. Taking a step, he chuckled when the dog did the same.  
  
Several hours later, Konoha came into view. The pair had just made it to the peak of yet another hill, fog coming in heavy as the day dragged on; when the wall appeared, mist covering all but the watchtowers at the highest points where an eerie glow proved their existence. It also blanketed the ground, turning all the fields of wheat, barley, peas, and beans that Kakashi knew lay just outside of the barricade a solid, filmy white. A ghostly light from within could just be seen as well, residents beginning their nightly rituals earlier and earlier with each passing day as the sun lost its battle to the army of stars.  
  
He was happy that the gate had not been shut yet, leaving him with a handful of daylight to do his trading by. Kakashi grinned around his pipe, teeth sharp in the grey haze as smoke curled up in front of him, dissipating into the cold. Yes, there were things out in the woods, but he was not afraid. Traveling at night was a walk in the park considering he had always lived outside of town. First with his father, and then on his own after he passed, slowly amassing a pack of dogs that staved off the worst of his loneliness in the middle of the night, when it would rear its ugly head. And, armed with his knives and his faithful companion, he did not worry. Due to this, all of Konoha feared him, but he was the only fur trapper for miles around, except for when the rare merchant came through with their wares. Kakashi also drove a good bargain, so the town begrudgingly accepted him when he came through, reluctant to talk to him any more than was necessary for their individual transaction.  
  
He strode through the gate as he pocketed his pipe once again, footsteps confident although everyone had ceased all conversation, the only sound the wind as it rustled the trees outside their barricade, where the edges of night had just now begun to creep in, darkness pulling at the sky lending it a steel grey hue. Akino was close to his side, fur brushing against Kakashi’s gloved fingertips as the two walked past the houses right against the wall--where the rare newcomer stayed--then the family compounds. The market was close to the center of Konoha, which was reserved for the town hall, and the most prominent members of society occupying the homes closest to it, such as the leader of the village, known as the Hokage. Kakashi felt eyes upon him as he walked, scarf drawn up past his nose to protect from the sharp edge the wind carried, cutting past his flesh and straight to the bone. It also helped hide the scar stretching down the left side of his face, ragged edges of the gnarled flesh looking every bit the end product of an animal encounter of the perilous variety. His eye on that side was scarred as well, resting, unseeing and milky white, in its orbit. The wound ended on his neck where four prominent claw marks finished it, curling over his left collarbone and part way onto the center of his chest, tilting towards the right. Most of Konoha’s residents knew of the one on his face, casting him disgusted looks in the summertime when it was exposed, but he kept these to himself in fear of the same reaction.  
  
Small torches were lit in the front of some of the homes, light escaping from under their doors to help illuminate the way. The wooden facade of the market came into view, and Kakashi veered left, ducking down as he entered the building, faithful companion nary a foot away. The floor was dirt, covered in a thin layer of straw, and lanterns hung at regular intervals down the long, low ceiling. Each vendor had a small stall to call their own, rough hewn wooden planks cobbled together. Most business was done in the long hall and many people were bustling about before true darkness fell. Only a few shops had their own storefronts, each grouping closer together with each subsequent year as their owner’s fear of being alone grew stronger; the fear of having to walk home after dark outweighing all.  
  
Checking the mental list of goods he needed, Kakashi began with selling his pelts, which meant a stop at the Inuzukas. They were an old Konoha family, and one of the rare few that welcomed him into their storefront when he was in town, due to their mutual love of dogs, although Kakashi’s certainly acted more as a pack and less as pets. The Inuzukas made heavy fur coats suitable for hunting or traveling, as well as robes, blankets, and capes, and were Kakashi’s best customers.  
  
Tsume Inuzuka, the matriarch, was in the middle of bartering with another client, bright red triangles decorating her cheeks looking dark in the dim firelight. All the clan members had them, and Kakashi was unsure if they were tattoos or body paint, but at this point, knew not to ask. Akino trotted over to the youngest Inuzuka, Kiba’s screech of delight meeting Kakashi’s ears but a moment later. The boy had just turned two, and Kakashi had a small gift in his rucksack. It was the least he could do to repay some of the only kindness shown to him. Tsume caught his eye as she walked over, patting Akino’s head as she passed.  
  
“I thought that you would be coming after winter had passed,” She said with a wry smile, clearing off the low table to her right.  
  
“It would be a difficult season if I were so foolish,” Kakashi answered, voice low. He placed his rucksack on the splintered wood, unbuckling it and digging out the pelts as Tsume chuckled beside him. Akino had curled up around Kiba, licking the boy’s face whenever he stopped receiving attention. Tsume took the furs, carding through them to inspect their quality. This time, they were mainly fox and beaver pelts, with a handful of deer skins thrown in for good measure. And, like always, the furs were of the highest quality, supple and mesmerizing in their softness.  
  
“I can offer you thirteen sovereigns for the lot,” Tsume said after finishing. She crossed her arms over the old leather apron she always wore, sizing Kakashi up. A small smile spread across his face, only visible in the upward tilt of his good eye.  
  
“A fair price, Ms. Inuzuka,” Kakashi answered, pocketing the coins and ensuring they were safe around his waist. He reached into his rucksack once more only to pull out a small toy, a dog carved in Akino’s likeness out of a small piece of cedar, “I know it is not much, but this is for Kiba. His birthday is in a fortnight if I’m not mistaken? Make sure to keep a close eye on him this time of year.” The warning he gave was uncharacteristically serious, mouth pressing into a straight line and eye hardening in a way unlike Tsume had ever seen before. Smiling at the concern in Kakashi’s voice, she answered, tone warm.  
  
“You would be correct. Thank you,” She said, taking the toy, smile spreading across her strong features and making her look ten years younger, before she had to worry about taking care of two children on her own after her husband had run off in the middle of the night with nary a warning. Glancing behind her, she hid the dog in the folds of her tattered apron pocket, making sure Kiba was otherwise occupied. Kakashi reached up and scratched at the back of his head, looking away.  
  
“No, thank you,” He said, whistling for Akino and stepping back into the main hall of vendors, “I have to be going, otherwise I’ll leave too late.” His smile was sharp, and Tsume laughed, picking up Kiba when he made an insistent sound, little fists hitting the floor of the stall as he tried to follow the large dog out. The marketplace had cleared out considerably in the few minutes it had taken Kakashi to finish his first transaction, only a handful of locals milling about and buying food in the dying light. Kakashi thought about his stores at home, trying to visualize the amount of dry goods he had. Deciding to stop at the Akimichi’s for more flour and some root vegetables, Kakashi exited the market, waving a small goodbye to Tsume over his shoulder as he turned onto the main path through Konoha.  
  
The Akimichi family was another old clan, not high enough in status to earn them a compound close to the center of town, but they were deeply entrenched in all food production in the village. They also ran the largest farm, with lands outside the barricade that were tilled only during the highest hours of day, when the sun was bright and clear, worries dissipating if for a moment in the intense rays. Kakashi walked the short distance to their shopfront, miniscule windows foggy from lack of cleaning. Akino waited outside, sitting next to the solid wooden door as his owner ventured inside. Nodding a hello to Mrs. Akimichi, he approached the counter, asking for five pounds of barley, a pound of salted herring as a treat for the dogs, and a long chain of sausage links. He had some game left over in the shed, and still had several traps to check on the way home. The journey to Konoha was long, but one Kakashi had travelled enough times to know like the back of his hand, each knot of wood in the path as familiar to him as the layout of his own home.  
  
After paying, he exited, Akino hot on his heels. The sun had finished setting, dark pinks and purples giving way to a glittering night sky of endless black, punctuated with pinpoints of light as the stars emerged. The guards in the watchtower were changing shifts, the heavy gate preparing to seal the town off from the outside for the duration of the evening. Kakashi strolled out, feeling all sets of eyes on him. Everyone was terrified of the dark for good reason, yet he ventured into it, walking up the dirt path until he crested the hill. He turned around, the only indication of other life the muffled light that was barely visible through the thick fog that had covered the valley.  
“Akino, you go on ahead. I promise to return in time to feed you,” The Akita tilted its head, giving Kakashi a confused look although he knew what the man wanted him to do, “Go. I won’t be far behind.” With a stilted whine, the dog padded off into the underbrush. From their position on the hill it was still a good four hour’s walk home. Listening for a minute as Akino ran through the pines, Kakashi waited, the sound of twigs snapping dampening with distance. Although it was late, it was bright and he could see the valley below, the forest to his right starting off sparse until the fog whited out the trunks, dark shadows where they grew together, denser and emanating a sinister energy.  
  
The moonlight cut through the black, illuminating the land below in an otherworldly glow as it diffused through the crowded trees, slowly creeping up the hill towards the dark forest. The moon itself hung heavy in the sky, bright even through the haze of the foggy night. Kakashi turned, pace quickening as he darted into the pines. He began to run with an almost preternatural knowledge of where to step to avoid gnarled roots and fallen branches, footsteps muffled from the layer of red and yellow leaves that covered the ground.  
  
It wasn’t long before he was deep in the forest, where it was still too dark for the average human to be comfortable, so pitch black that they would not even be able to see their own extended hand. Kakashi, however, could, although it was dim. Stepping behind a thick trunk, he stripped, heavy knit scarf, fur cloak, and woolen trousers slipping off with ease as he struggled for a moment with the straps on the upper shaft of his boots, peeling off the thick socks that lay underneath. His heavy tunic and sweater were next to fall, trembling hands undoing the tie at his neck as quickly as he could. Stuffing the clothing into his rucksack, he put the bag in the crook of a branch, resting the coat over the leather satchel and covering the cloth that peeked out.  
  
There was a brief pause, a moment of pure, otherworldly silence in the depths of the forest, naked branches overhead blocking most of the light that radiated from the stars and moon as it trickled through the outstretched limbs. Kakashi felt himself tense, strung tight and waiting for a glimpse of the full celestial body he knew was following him, had been tracking him like a hunter since the moment of his birth. As if on cue, a thin glow poked holes in the canopy high above, pinpoints of dewy illumination shining on the leaves around his bare feet. Time paused, and Kakashi groaned, falling onto his hands that were balled into fists and knees, burnt red cushioning his fall and sparing him from benign pain, but only for a moment. A scream pierced through the pressured silence, coming ragged and inhuman out of Kakashi’s throat, clawing its way into existence, melancholy and angry all at once. It was chilling, and had there been any animals in the vicinity, it would have made their fur stand on end, activating the primal fight or flight response that normally lay dormant.  
  
Meanwhile, Kakashi crumpled even further onto the cold ground, dirt packed hard underneath his hands. There was a sick crunch as the bones in his palm broke, elongating even further by stretching out in the middle of the shaft, nails growing simultaneously and ending in a sharp point. Claws more befitting an animal took their place, leaving deep gouges in the twisted root under Kakashi’s hand, where a gargantuan paw now lay. His skin stretched gruesomely, bones shifting under it in a gruesome attempt to escape, only to be reformed in a more horrific configuration. From where his head was hung low, neck limp and eye downcast, Kakashi could watch as his rib cage expanded, thin flesh barely containing the bones as they moved underneath like an animal caught under a blanket. He kept his eye open, taking in how course grey fur sprouted, covering his shoulders and chest, spreading onto his abdomen and legs as he grew taller and longer, muscles of his arms straining to hold himself up.  
  
Kakashi’s silhouette morphed slowly, gristly pops and cracks reverberating through the skeleton forest, sounding like a branch snapping underfoot far down the path from the watchtowers atop Konoha’s gate. All prey animals had fled, smelling an apex predator in their portion of the woods. Predators had taken their leave too, knowing they would stand no chance against this newcomer. The pain was sharp and all he could focus on as his bones knit themselves back together, thicker and more robust than before. His musculature elongating in parallel, the wide, sloping chords of Kakashi’s shoulders now massive. Hot red fire burned a quick path up his spine, shooting through his limbs. His screams echoed his outrage, low and mournful, full of untold sorrows heaped on a solitary man. Kakashi endured it--he had to--but it would be a lie to say he felt any other way towards it except for pure, unadulterated loathing, having to anticipate the agony that was in store for him each month, without fail.  
  
It was during these times that he cursed his father, hated him for ending his suffering and leaving Kakashi alone, to be ripped apart and put together anew each and every full moon that hung suspended and mocking in the sky above. Sakumo was lucky to be done with this, at peace in the cold ground six feet below, out somewhere in the small clearing that surrounded the cabin. Kakashi had not marked the grave, but he had dug it himself, in the dead of a still night with his own two freezing hands, numb with cold and the grave realization that he was profoundly alone.  
  
His father had been selfish as well, but Kakashi understood his motive more and more with the passing the seasons, with each movement from frozen wasteland to scorching summers, and each metamorphosis he underwent. The transformation was not as simple as the legends made it out to be. There was no automatic shift into a wolf, no instantaneous alteration. And, he was no half-wolf, not one of the hulking beasts that were illustrated in the witch hunter’s manuals he had seen during his travels, recognizably human and walking on two legs. Instead, Kakashi felt his body changing, felt the agony of his flesh and sinew rewriting itself against the rules of nature, bulking up and bending into a four-legged form, paws massive. The fragile bones of his face elongated, teeth shifting along with the formation of his long snout.  
  
Canines that had already been too sharp for a human came to an extreme point, all the teeth sharpening noticeably and digging into the delicate flesh of Kakashi’s lower lip. A drop of blood beaded out of the small puncture, dripping off white bone and onto the dirt below, splatters muffled by the dense layer of leaves. Kakashi was still doubled over, at first from the agony and then from his hulking form switching over to using all four of his legs. He stood much taller than he had been as a human, tips of his triangular ears brushing against branches that split off the trunk, as thick around as Kakashi’s waist.  
  
A tail sprouted seemingly from nowhere and it earned a mournful howl from Kakashi as it lengthened, additional vertebrae budding and fully realized in a matter of moments when it should have taken years, splintering growing pains evidence to the sudden addition of a limb. That was another detail the myths had wrong: they always hypothesized that werewolves had no tails, since they were simply men that transformed halfway into the form of a wolf. But reality was a cruel mistress, and instead, those bound to suffer the moon’s curse felt a new limb go through decades worth of growth in several minutes, only for it to unknit itself mere hours later.  
  
Dark grey fur covered him, absent in patches on his face and chest where gnarled scar tissue sat, pearly white to those who were foolish enough to get a close look. There were also places on his legs and undercarriage where no fur grew, covered by the rest of it, but there all the same, a testament to the amount of fights Kakashi had entered and come out triumphant, if not decorated and worse for wear. Pathetic whines made their way out of his throat, broken and walking on the knife’s edge of humanity, unsettling in their echoes that shifted from wolf crying out for his nonexistent pack to man cursing his affliction and back once more. The rest of the forest was dead silent, still in the moonlight, no animals rustling in the underbrush and no sign of humans nearby.  
  
Kakashi stopped whimpering, transformation complete. He stood taller than the average man, at about nine feet from paw to the tip of his large ears which swivelled, trying to catch a hint of sound. Any game was satisfactory, the larger the better. The only word to describe how he felt was ravenous: his stomach turned over itself, crying out for something, anything to be put inside of it and end his suffering. With a groan, Kakashi righted himself as best he could, heavy, chorded musculature standing out on his long frame. There was a thin layer of steam that emanated from his body, gossamer fading into the surrounding nothingness as all the extra fat left in his body was consumed by the metamorphosis. Only one eye peered out from the hulking creature, still human, but searching in a way that was decidedly not. All mortality was pushed aside once Kakashi heard the steady plodding of someone far off in the distance, pace slow yet steady. He ran, all four feet pumping as fast as he could, giant paws digging into the forest floor as their equally massive claws left behind gouges in the dirt and fallen branches, leaves fluttering behind him as Kakashi flew towards his target, branches snapping underfoot as leaves fluttered in the breeze he generated.  
  
Far up the path--in the valley that lay before Konoha’s to the east--was a man, alone and woefully unprepared for what was on its way to meet him. He had been warned by family and friends to seek shelter each night, as the journey from Water Country took several days. Word had traveled around that there was something in the woods, something bigger and stronger than they were. Something hungry for blood. Human blood, that was, although the stories were sure to drive home the point that it consumed, and consumed all. But he had eschewed their warnings, opting to walk through the night to reach his destination, hoping that there would be an inn open so late. Watching as moon reached its apex, he now kept it in his sights on its slow descent as it gave way to the sun. The man had been hiking in silence for the better part of an hour now, he figured. There had been no noise save for his own footsteps, muffled as they were from the thick covering of fallen leaves on the ground.  
  
Suddenly, there was a snap from his left, sounding like it had come from deep within the trees. He stopped, waiting to see if it had been a figment of his imagination, but more twigs breaking was the only response. Speeding up, he began to walk as a fast pace until the noises were closer, as if whoever--or whatever, his mind supplied--was behind him, and close enough to touch. Reaching a trembling hand up, the man clasped his rosary, turning around when he felt the damp breath of whatever was chasing him fanning across the back of his neck as the hairs there stood on end in an ancient fear.  
  
There, standing on the winding path behind him was a wolf. Not an ordinary wolf, either, unless his eyes were deceiving him. This one had to be what the stories had been warning travelers about, and the man felt foolish, knowing there would be no winning this particular battle. It was massive, taller than him even while standing on all four feet. The wolf’s fur was a diaphanous grey, shifting to lighter tones the farther out of the woods it came. Once on the path, the man could see just how large the creature was: its paws were each the size of his head, and the body was longer than he was tall, not including the plush tail, thickly covered with fur. The teeth--he shivered as they came into view and the creature curled its lips upwards into a snarl--were cruel and unforgiving, glinting with danger in the moonlight and sending a cold chill through his veins. The man could only make out one of the wolf’s eyes through the mass of grey fur, the other a milky white with a scar running through it and down onto the creature’s chest. Praying under his breath, he turned, running as fast as his legs could take him as he dropped his satchel in an attempt to flee faster, but it was no use.  
  
Kakashi’s primal side had reared its ugly head, giving into the chase that his brain assured him would end in a meal. He was just so hungry, a hollow pit finding a home amidst his organs as it made its famine known. It was if he hadn’t eaten in a decade, gnawing at his conscious until its greed was the only thing his brain could focus on. The human had no chance as he heard the heavy thud of large paws behind him, coming to a sudden stop as the wolf pounced onto his legs, claws the size of daggers digging into the substantial muscles in the back of his thighs, right above his knees. Falling onto the dirt path, the man screamed out as the wolf removed its weight from atop of him, not knowing what its next move might be. Shaking, weak hands tried to find purchase among the leaves in a desperate attempt to get away. They were pale, unsure if it was from the thin light of the moon or blood loss, but he hoped beyond hope that it was the former, although some dark part of his conscious knew that this encounter could only end one way: his death, which was sure to be agonizing.  
  
The wolf watched for a long, curious moment before placing a paw in the middle of the man’s unprotected spine, pressing down gradually as the human under him groaned, pained noises gurgling out as vertebrae after thoracic vertebrae broke under the immense pressure. His ribs cracked with hollow pops as unfeeling as the animal on top of him. He was wheezing, each breath stabbing and sending fire through his chest. Hyperventilating, the man clawed his way five feet further down the path, not caring that the wolf’s claws were tearing their way down his back, adrenaline fueling him longer than he should have been able to move. Kakashi stalked forward, flipping the man onto his back so he was staring at the endless sky of black above him, not registering that it was to be the final time he did so. A laboured breath escaped him, hissing out from between clenched teeth as the wolf held him down, baring his immense fangs.  
  
White flashed through the darkness, tearing through the man’s legs as if they were butter. Kakashi held one shin in between his teeth, the echoes of his victim’s screams falling on deaf ears as they reverberated through the forest. To the residents of Konoha, it was a chilling reminder of why they stayed inside, why they closed themselves off to the outside world as soon as the sun gave way to darkness. Anyone still awake heard the blood curdling screams, closing their eyes and covering their ears in a futile attempt to escape the knowledge that a human life was in the middle of being snuffed out by a creature they hardly understood, could barely conceptualize. No one wanted to admit what everyone had observed: the killings only occurred during and around the full moon. No one wanted to be the one to put blame on a werewolf, lest they be wrong.  
  
But, there was no denying the pattern, and no denying the torture whoever was undergoing to warrant such a terrifying sound. And Kakashi, more beast than being at this moment, frozen in time immemorial of a predator cornering his prey, revelled in it. Teeth clamping around the other leg, he shook his head, tearing the flesh and tendons apart with a horrifying crack as the joint separated, ripping the right hip out of its socket with a sickening pop as the ligaments were torn off along with it. The man screamed once more, although this time the sound was thinner, rasping out of his throat, each shuddering breath he took closer to his last. He was beginning to cough up blood as the wolf continued its savage attack, tearing the flesh off the bone it had separated, gobbling down muscle and fat in a greedy attempt to fill itself as quickly as it could wrench off the meat. It was impossibly fast, the human not even quite becoming accustomed to being three quarters whole before the enormous wolf was pulling off the other hip, disjointing the man until he was no better than a worm, writhing in the leaves and dirt on the forest floor outside Konoha. Sure to perish and be consumed there, without a concrete goodbye, some way to tell his loved ones how he fell, although perhaps not knowing was better in this instance.  
  
There was a pause, before the pain began to struggle anew, although it was not as sharp as before, his vision fading at the edges, black in the corners unlike it had been before. There was a verifiable inferno of agony blazing its way through his pelvis, pain unlike he had ever felt before. And then, it was gone as if by some miracle. He lay on what was left of his back, spine protruding from the jagged bite that had torn through his torso, small intestines uncoiling and snaking onto the dirt in a cruel imitation of the path he had followed. Consciousness was fading as he tilted his head to the side, weak remnants of adrenaline numbing the effort it took. There, to his right, was the wolf, teeth bared in a terrifying snarl, muzzle stained red from its meal. Dark pools of black surrounded it, blood escaping the man at an alarming pace as dizziness set in. The traveler closed his eyes, hoping death on its white horse would find him before he had been devoured whole.  
  
At the same time, Kakashi was tearing hunks of flesh off the splintered bone, paws holding it steady as white teeth flashed. He plodded over to the man’s supine form, bubbles of blood and saliva at the corners of his chapped lips the only proof that he was still breathing as the giant wolf loomed overhead, blotting the moon from the sky. Panicked eyes opened once more at the feeling of something dripping onto his face. The traveler was met with rows of teeth, a dark, endless maw stained crimson, canines sharp and insidious as his own blood they were caked with succumbed to gravity, landing thick and slow on his cheeks where they mingled with a constant stream of tears, flowing down in a dismissed plea. The moon had begun to wane, dipping below the clouds suspended in the wintery breeze and painting the landscape in a thicker cloud of darkness. Fog was still lying low on the ground, creeping through the dense underbrush and surrounding the two beings, one of which would not exist much longer.  
  
Deciding to take pity for once, Kakashi lowered his head, powerful jaws resting in a devil’s embrace above either side of the man’s tear stained cheeks. Sharp teeth punctured the delicate skin as easily as if it were silk, cracking the thin bone and tender muscles. Canines punctured through the delicate flesh of the unfortunate man’s eyeballs, vitreous humor oozing out to join the rest of the bodily fluids staining the ground. Kakashi wrenched his head back, taking the features of the human below with him, throwing the meat into the air and gulping it down. There, in the place of a man, was a vivisected model, musculature of his face open for study as sinew and tendon stretched open into a scream of a death mask, eye sockets hollow and staring the creature back in the face. A black cavity was all that was left of the man’s nose, heavy crimson pooling forth to fill it. Satiated for the time being, Kakashi looked down at the carnage he stood in the center of, an old god of chaos still thriving in his natural element.  
  
Blood stained his muzzle and sunk into the ground below in a timeless cycle, sure to be absorbed by the trees come morning’s first light. He no longer hungered, and his mind gave over to his human portion, however small it might be. Soon, the moon would lower further, and he would undergo torture once more. The very thought exhausted him, made him wish that there was a way to choose, to stay in this monstrous form rather than return to human life. Wolves were simple creatures at heart. Yes, they could kill, could do so viciously, all snarling fangs and pure fight. But they all had their pack. Kakashi’s last thought, before the sky began to tinge a deep purple on the edges, dark violet overcoming the night in advance of the sun, was that his human pack was long dead, and to become a man each full moon was life’s true curse.  
  
Molten misery flared down the length of his spine, terminating at the tip of his bushy tail. Fur began to fall on the cold ground, blooming a bright crimson. Next was the pounding in his skull as he howled, ragged and tortured into the witching hour, the no-man’s land of time that existed on another plane, startling all who were awake with the innate knowledge that they should be asleep. Giant ears shrunk, dropping their velvety fur as they retreated back into Kakashi’s skull for safekeeping until the next lunar cycled called them forth once more. His muzzle was always the worst part, mouth tender and painful for days after the moon waned. The bone retracted, flattening into his nose and lips, scar tissue sensitive and thick over the skin of his face. Deadly teeth shifted back into their intended locations, still sharp enough to tear out a jugular and bring about death in moments. They were always like that, and caused more rumors to be spread about the elusive trapper who lived so far off, and alone. Claws shrunk, still caked in blood, dirt collecting under his fingernails as they shrunk, until they existed as half moons befitting a human. The connections of interstitial tissue dismantled; any supernumerary vertebrae that existed beyond his pelvis devoured themselves whole, sturdy calcium melting until he was left with four limbs again. It felt like acid was eating his own body from the inside, consuming it in the same manner he had laid waste to the poor soul who dared travel after dark.  
  
Arms giving out from under him, Kakashi collapsed onto the ground below, uncanny in his appearance as it was unlike any creature should look. He felt ancient, burdened with the weight of unspeakable knowledge as his form shifted, watching out of one blurred eye as his muscles shrunk, bones cracking and shredding the inside of his arms and legs, an inescapable growing pain that he would have to endure for the rest of his long life. Steam was emanating from his form for the second time that night, transformation using up his grisly meal until he was left empty once more, a hollow pit not only in his stomach but in his chest, weary at the thought of returning home to his dogs. With a great amount of effort, Kakashi stood, wincing when his ankles shrunk back to their bipedal position, bones crunching, grinding against one another until the cartilage shifted into place moments later. Shoulders aching from the weight they had borne just minutes earlier, he walked forward, conscious of his bloody--and naked--state. Years of undergoing the curse had made him privy to the knowledge that clothes were expensive, and difficult to replace when no town encouraged you to stay for longer than necessary.  
  
Head downcast, Kakashi took in the sheer volume of blood he had spilled--not surprising, considering the man had been larger than average, tall and broad in ways that would have served him well had his opponent been human. There was not much left of him, his savage side coming out in full force. When had been the last time he had been so brutal? So primal? Even Kakashi could not remember. Still, he had dogs to feed, and this would not be the first time they had feasted on human flesh and it certainly would not be the last. Although he was back to being human, Kakashi still possessed a surprising amount of strength and leaned over, gripping the body.  
  
Picking the corpse up from around the middle, he rested it on his shoulder, cold arms dangling lifelessly over his back as he picked his way back to his belongings, scent faint but enough to navigate. Dawn was seeping into the edges of the sky, dark violet fading into a vibrant magenta, orange just on the horizon. For once, Kakashi was grateful to live in such an isolated location, no fear apparent in his lanky, muscled form as he picked his way through the underbrush, jogging steadily and leaping over any roots in his way. Soon enough he had made it back to his rucksack. Pausing, he readjusted the body he carried, slinging the worn leather strap across his chest and choosing to forgo clothing himself. At this pace, he would return to the cabin by daybreak at the latest. Kakashi prayed that no travelers would cross his path, and for once, they were answered. The trek home was tedious, but no other beings made their presence known. He was walking through a silent forest, hushed power thrumming through the early morning air and blanketing him as he crested the hill above his small cabin.  
  
It was cold, breath fanning out and fading into nothingness, crisp edge in the wind a sharp knife, an undercurrent of trepidation on an otherwise uneventful night. Or, uneventful to him by now. Kakashi took the slope at a fiendish pace, eager to wash up, put whatever it was that he was feeling behind him, like everything else, and fall into bed after the long night he had. However, he couldn’t help but sense that something was off. By now, he had learned to trust his judgement, quick as a flash, dangerous as a thunder strike in the dark. It had saved him more times than he could count, knotted silver flesh of his scars testament to his innate sense of self preservation; something Sakumo had hoped to pass down because if he could not be with his son, at the very least his sensibilities could.  
  
The encroaching light was dim, yet enough for his preternatural eyes to see the small mounds of dirt piled in what he bitterly thought of as his land, his crops of poor souls, both animals and humans. They were all laid to rest there, Kakashi not having a heart to just leave the travelers on the path to the other wolves and animals that would come to pick at the decomposing flesh. He knew it was almost cruel, after what he did to them, but he thought they deserved that much dignity. Those who were foolish enough to stay outside of Konoha well past dark, however? Well, those were low-hanging fruit, easy to pluck away and leave as the occasional warning. Although he did not want to cause more carnage than necessary, Kakashi did have to eat, and anyone out around a full moon wore a target on their back.  
  
Crossing past the dip near the cabin, he walked into the shed. Pinpricks of light leaked through the wooden roof as he laid the corpse on the worktable in the center of the small building, careful to place it on the opposite end of the animals he had dropped off last morning. Exhaustion was creeping into the edges of Kakashi’s subconscious, after effects of the transformation finally coming to fruition. The physical toll was immense, but the emotional one never failed to take him by surprise, lulling him into a false sense of security until he was laying in his bed with the knowledge that the exact same events would take place in a month’s time. Kakashi rounded the clearing, strides long and full of purpose. There was a simple metal tub left in his home with a kettle he had filled with water from the nearby creek to clean up the gore that accumulated, and he was long overdue for a change of clothing.  
  
Somehow, he had not noticed the weak light seeping through the sparse windows and under the gap between the door and floorboards that managed to evade being fixed. Smoke was curling out the chimney, a sooty grey against the sky, now ablaze with orange and yellow, pale pink blurring the edges. Kakashi reached for the strap of his rucksack, pulling it over his head as he bent his neck. A bloodied hand grasped the steel door knocker, tarnished with age, and pushed it open. There was no use for locks, his father had told him what seemed an eternity ago, when you live in the middle of nowhere. Light dazzled his eye and Kakashi blinked, dumbstruck.  
  
There, in the middle of his small, rustic cabin, was a man. An intruder not only in his home, but Kakashi’s warm bed as well, although he was sitting up, as if in wait for the owner to return. His silky brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail that rested at the nape of his neck, spilling over his stiff black collar. A hint of white at the hollow of his neck as the stranger turned to investigate the source of the noise gave away his profession. A _priest_ in his home, with one of his dogs curled up in the man’s lap, as content as if he had known him from the moment Biscuit had been born. A clean scar split the plane of his face, hardened white flesh bisecting the bridge of his nose and spilling across his cheeks in either direction. Full lashes brushed against his high cheekbones, mouth parted as the stranger breathed rhythmically, deep in a peaceful slumber for the time being. Kakashi would be lying if he said he was not utterly stunned, frozen in the doorway, brown satchel clutched tightly in his right hand, left still on the heavy door.  
  
The priest’s eyes fluttered open upon hearing wood slam into wood, the heavy metal knocker rapping softly before its inertia stilled once more. He stood up and blanched, taking in the mass amounts of blood covering Kakashi which made his brain wake up, sparking into consciousness. Dark eyes trailed down and widened even further (if that was possible) after glancing at the rest of the naked body that the priest guessed owned this remote cabin. There was powerful muscle hidden under the skin, although it was marked with gnarled scar tissue that twisted over the surface, a maze leading to one destination: imminent danger. But the worst one was on the man’s face--his sharp bone structure hinting at something feral--and it included his left eye. Pink bloomed across the priest’s face as he quickly glanced to the side, standing while Biscuit, a medium sized tan terrier with dark circles around both eyes, ears, and, paws stood up lazily, stretching deep into a bow before yawning and passing Kakashi as he ambled outside. Several other dogs followed before the stranger spoke.  
  
“I hope that you might overlook my intrusion. You see, I am traveling to Konoha as their new priest, for the last one fled to the Land of Mist. The night came upon me sooner than I had planned,” His warm brown eyes shone with fear for a moment before he continued, “Many had warned me about what might meet me in the woods, although I must say that worry has not abated.” He taped off with a thin chuckle as Kakashi stepped into the room, reaching for a pelt that hung over the back of his solitary chair. He closed the door behind him with a note of finality that shook the other man to the core, gut twisting as it filled with ice. He had heard of beasts in the woods outside of Konoha, in fact, that was the very reason why the previous priest had fled. But men who killed? It was not beyond human cruelty, of that he was sure, but the amount of blood that caked the other man’s skin spoke of a different story. One with an unfortunate ending for him, it seemed.  
  
Meanwhile, Kakashi was trying to come to terms with the fact that a traveler had discovered the location of his home, but had also somehow befriended his entire pack of dogs, which was no small feat. Their personalities differed, and there were certainly some that were more friendly than the others, but Kakashi had taught them to be wary of everything, whether it be another animal or a human. But for Biscuit to fall asleep in a stranger’s lap? Something had to be different. Kakashi could tell the other man was afraid, yet radiated a sense of calm and warmth that drew him in towards the human. He was still trying to answer the simple question of whether to just kill him or not. Still remaining more beast than man for several days after the moon waned, Kakashi’s upper lip unconsciously curled up into a snarl and showed off the sharp teeth that lay underneath. A sharp inhale filled the room and the priest tried a different approach, taking a hesitant step towards the other man.  
  
“I don’t know what I can offer, but please,” He took a shuddering breath, “Do not harm me.” Kakashi stared at the slightly shorter man, barking out a short, yet loud laugh.  
  
“What makes you think you are so...rarefied as to have something I might need, Father?” Kakashi said, grinning. He knew the sight of his too-sharp teeth in the thin morning light was more than unsettling, seeing as it was one feature that never vanished fully, a hint that he might be more animal than human. To his credit, the priest made no overt movements and the only sign he was beginning to truly feel the cold fingers of fear sliding around his throat was the way his naturally golden skin blanched. Letting him sweat, Kakashi leaned against the wooden door and edge of its frame dug into the bare skin of his back. He felt exhausted, weary to the core of each bone. This was nothing but a nuisance, and the most atypical one the solitary man had encountered yet.  
  
“I have a meager amount of money if that is what you so wish,” The priest began, trembling hands gesturing in front of him as he spoke. He was still avoiding meeting Kakashi’s eyes, and was instead pointedly glancing to the side, shying away from looking at the other man’s body as well, “But, might I be so bold as to offer my services as a teacher? That is part of my duties after all.”  
  
“And what is it that you would teach me then, Father...?” Kakashi said, trailing off at the end once he realized he did not know the other’s name. He crossed his arms after making sure the pelt he had grabbed was secure around his waist. The blood covering his skin had begun to dry, congealing and turning a rusty brown, pulling at the microscopic hair follicles and making Kakashi’s flesh itch. From the corner of his eye, he could see his makeshift bed, a pile of thick furs collected over his years of hunting. Several more covered the floor but were invisible due to the dogs laying on them and felt a twinge of jealousy.  
  
“Father Iruka Umino. Do you know how to read, sir?” He asked quickly, lips twitching as they yearned to stretch into a smile. The way the other man’s brow furrowed gave him answers aplenty, silver tongue coming out to play as the danger in the room dissipated, “I could come back in a fortnight or so to begin teaching, if you might be so inclined?” It was not so much a question as a demand, and Kakashi, bone tired down to each wailing atom, was thrilled with the prospect of a human who had the gall stand up to him. And while he was covered in blood, at that.  
  
The room was quiet as he weighed the offer, sighing as he opened the door, bright sunbeams cutting into the cabin once unobstructed. Iruka seemed to bristle with life as he peered out the opening, beaten leather satchel at his feet. His brown hair reflected the light, framing his face as it hung straight, save for the bird’s nest at the back he had yet to comb out. Kakashi had no clue how to describe the priest besides _vibrant_ , and suddenly he felt disgusted with himself, horrified that the beast within him had wanted to kill this radiant creature first and think later, to bring down more prey in a useless attempt at satiating the void inside. Walking to the far side of the room, he placed a kettle of water over the embers left from the fire Iruka had built last night. Kakashi was still facing the fireplace, using a long metal poker to nudge more logs into position over the now growing flames when he spoke at last.  
  
“I look forward to it,” He said, voice weary. It sounded old beyond its years, saddled with an ancient pain Iruka could only hope to one day fathom, “Safe travels, Father Umino. The fastest way to the road is straight up the hill, past the tree with a fork in the trunk. May the gods be with you.” With that, the priest picked up his bag and walked out the door, chancing one last glance behind him, taking in the other man--who had never once mentioned his name--and leaving Kakashi wondering why he had given the Father his preferred route so easily. Perhaps it was old age or sheer exhaustion from his endless night that had now bled into morning. Kakashi’s soul suddenly feeling heavy and like it was numerous, existing in multitudes so infinite that the cursed man understood his unending life sentence that ensured he lived far longer than any other animal would wish.  
  
The kettle had begun to steam and he removed it before it became too hot, treading a fine line between red skin and burnt flesh, but the hotter the water the better Kakashi thought it removed the blood that always covered him after a full moon. Throwing the pelt back onto the armchair, he lowered himself into the metal tub in the corner of his cabin, furthest away from the plush rug in area of the room closer to the door. It was nowhere near large enough to stretch out in, but the washbasin was large enough to allow Kakashi to scrub away the crimson staining his skin, persistent in its desire to stay congealed on the pale flesh in the same way the strange priest had taken root in the back of his mind, staying long after the half man had finished his bath, falling into bed to dreams of the moon and her pull.


	2. bad moon rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruka knew he was interested in the other man, but was uncertain about what exactly he was interested in. Although he may have been a man of God and a teacher at that, it had been a long time since he’d felt any spark--any connection no matter how ephemeral--and call it a bad decision, but Iruka kept returning back to the crux of the matter like a wound that continued to fester even though it had been cleaned and wrapped. Kakashi was an anomaly, yet there was something about him that was new. Iruka did not even mind the occasional rudeness as the fur trapper became accustomed to sharing his space since it revealed Kakashi's softer side.  
>   
> It was like earning a wild animal’s trust, Iruka realized as he stared into the fire, unblinking in his epiphany and trying to stifle a grin at the comparison. Shaking his head, he stole a glance to his right at the other man, eyes following the path of Kakashi’s scar as it snaked down his face, neck, and onto his chest. All Iruka could hope was that he would be deemed trustworthy, but how long that might take, he did not know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello and welcome back to the second installment of giving iruka the monster bf he deserves. this chapter is much lighter on the gore and horror, but i'll be back to my roots by the next one. expect some serious dread, folks
> 
> and before i forget, here's the playlist for this fic if anyone is interested: https://open.spotify.com/user/1273912207/playlist/5DnLcgZ1FCVEqdW8aABDW0?si=0wbfYTQXRiqSb_1XsROJRA
> 
> thank you again for reading!! <3

Frost shone like diamonds in the field outside Kakashi’s lone cabin, reflecting the pale pre-dawn light from the moon and the beginning tendrils of the sunrise. The blades of grass were leaning under the weight of the ice, withering as the weather dropped closer and closer to freezing with each passing day. Upturned earth mottled the field further along the path leading to the building, with several flashes of white from remorsefully buried skeletons peeking through where the dogs had tried to dig into the now hard ground. Patches of green remained into the onset of winter, eclipsed by the sheer amount of withered brown grass that surrounded the isolated complex, sure to turn to mud after the first snowfall.  
  
It was early enough that the frost hadn’t melted quite yet, although Kakashi was unsure if it would today as the cold ripped a bitter path through his cabin, wind whistling in his ears, high and hungry. Laying logs onto yesterday’s embers, he couldn’t help but wonder after the priest who had sought shelter inside the rustic cabin. It had almost been three weeks since his promise to return and teach the solitary man to read, but Kakashi was doubtful that he would see it fulfilled. He could not blame Father Umino either; He had been a frightening sight indeed, covered in a thick layer of gore and bare as the day he was born.  
  
Somehow, instead of comfort, the thought upset Kakashi as a sharp edge of some unknown emotion cut through his body. He had been alone in the woods with his dogs for over fifty years and had hardened himself to the idea that he would forever be as lonely as he had been that bleak winter morning three weeks ago for the rest of his long life. Kakashi shook his head as he poked at the logs, trying to rid himself of that particular thought. It was too late however, mood already dampened and moving slow, yet he kept moving nevertheless. Watching as the fire grew, flames licking at the bricks that formed the mantle, he realized he felt a sense of profound loneliness for the first time since his father had passed. It was absolute and all encompassing, running up from the base of his spine to his brain where it took root.  
  
No one had thought to treat him kindly throughout his time in the woods. Kakashi supposed that was part and parcel of where he lived: all towns knew to be wary of the forests, especially as deep into the maze of trees as he was. And they needed to have that healthy dose of fear in their small lives, since the fur trapper knew what would happen to those who did not, who were arrogant and wanted to look death right in the eye. _But the priest was different_ , his mind supplied, _He understood_. But did he? Was he bound to help as a man of God, or had Iruka also been blinded by dread? By the primal fear he had first felt upon meeting Kakashi, bloody and not entirely human? The werewolf did not want to dwell on the question, hoping that the answer was anything but yes.  
  
All the dogs were piled up on Kakashi’s bed, which was just a glorified straw pallet covered in thick furs. Normally they preferred to sleep outside and guard the house from their spots on the porch, but when it was this cold they curled up on top of one another, sharing heat with the rest of the pack. Kakashi needed to go hunting for meat today, since his last two trips into the forest had been to collect pelts. It was astounding how little meat there was on a rabbit or fox; Certainly not enough to support the lot of them. There was a large stack of soft furs in the shed out back waiting to be taken to market, but the man was not in any rush to venture into Konoha to be judged.  
  
It was a tempting thought to go just so he could see the priest who the first person besides the Inuzukas to treat Kakashi with any modicum of respect. However, the hollow gnawing of his stomach made up his mind as he layered on furs and his cloak. His average body temperature ran higher than normal, but he still felt the chill today and pulled his scarf up over his nose, partly for warmth and partly to hide the scars underneath even though no other person would see them. Slinging a quiver of arrows over his shoulder, Kakashi grabbed his large hunting bow. It was made of flexible pine, another gift from his father before he had passed, string taut and curved in the center like the the top of a woman’s plush lips.  
  
“Uhei! Guruko!” Kakashi called, voice muffled by the thick wool. The two dogs in question immediately stood up, stretching leisurely. Their tails were alert and both took up their spots on either side of their master in the span of his next blink. Uhei was a sight hound with white patches that broke up the rich brown of his fur. He was fast and stealthy when it came to pursuing prey through the underbrush, able to overtake a deer easily. Guruko, on the other hand, relied on his nose but was the best dog for tracking Kakashi had. Though he was unsure of Guruko’s breed, Kakashi knew the tan dog was his best bet when it came to hunting for food. The other animals stared at him from where they lounged on the bed, lazy from the cold and early morning. Kakashi only ever took two or three of them out with him at any given time, the full pack of nine too unwieldy even for a man who was half canine himself. His senses were heightened beyond the capabilities of a normal human, but he still trusted the dogs more when it came to hunting game in the dense forest, especially when the pines crowded together thick enough that the average human could not see ten feet in any direction.  
  
Closing the door behind him, Kakashi pulled up the hood of his cloak, doing what he could to keep the icy wind at bay. He trudged behind the animals, watching their wagging tails as they turned and cut across the glen and past the shed, heading down towards the stream that butted up against the far edge of Kakashi’s property. Deer and elk stopped there often for a drink or to rest in the shade of the numerous trees that lined the banks. It was too cold to go too deep into the forest, wind whipping around him with enough force that it felt like needles pelting his skin, so Kakashi decided to begin at the stream and see where the day took him and his dogs. Winter was rolling in fast after a long summer had let the residents of the forest relax more than they should, and now survival was on the forefront of Kakashi’s mind once again. However long it took, he would be bringing home an elk today. Certainly nothing smaller than a large deer. And, some small part of him hoped, there would be someone waiting for him when he returned home.

  


Konoha was eerily quiet this early in the morning, when fog still blanketed the ground like children wrapped in warm comforters, safe in their beds. The sun had yet to rise, meaning the main light source came from Iruka’s hearth, another from the lamp set on his desk to illuminate the haphazard stack of books that lay on top of it. Most of them were primers, worn from little hands that had gripped them tight as their brows furrowed, sounding out the foreign letters. A calendar also sat on the desk, with each day since Iruka had come to Konoha almost three weeks ago crossed through in dense black ink. It was a Monday today, and although the weather was less than welcoming him on his journey, Iruka had a promise to fulfill. He had already waited long enough, hoping that the creeping chill in the air would plateau and allow an easy day’s travel. Any longer and it would begin to snow, which made the trek more dangerous, risks increasing exponentially along with the presence of the white powder.  
  
The thought of the strange man whose cabin he had taken shelter in stayed with the priest throughout the following weeks. And, Iruka _had_ made a promise to him--one he feared and hoped might have spared his life--that he would return. And, as the saying went, there was no time like the present. Reaching for his battered leather satchel, he opened it, packing several rations of bread and salted pork that he had snuck from the monastery’s kitchen. A spare shirt went in as well, followed by the primers he had selected from his small personal library. Iruka had been in Konoha for less than a month, so the residents had yet to trust him fully with their children, informing him that they would allow him to hold Sunday school the following spring, once the ice had melted away to reveal the life that lay dormant below it, scratching at the surface and flourishing once it felt the light.  
  
Before, he would have laughed at their superstition. Iruka was a simple man that followed the Lord’s doctrine and loved nothing more than teaching children--or anyone--that wanted to learn. It meant he had to devour books as a means to give them as much information as he could, but the effort was well worth it, for he was an educated man from his studies. He had lived in another part of Fire Country to the west, towards the Land of Rivers where the weather was wet, air humid enough to swim through it and fat raindrops fell nonstop in a monotonous whisper that drowned out any other noise. There had been a small university there, and he had attended as many courses as his meek earnings would allow.  
  
He missed the town there and his congregation, but there was something about Konoha that called to him. Perhaps it was because it was where his parents had met, thirty odd years ago back when it was barely a village and more a cluster of farms in the same general vicinity. Iruka remembered the stories his mother had told him about what lay waiting in the woods, but he had never seen anything when playing in the trees outside the small township as a young boy. But after walking through the familiar forests that he almost remembered in the encroaching darkness, memory tugging at the edge of his deep subconscious like a fisherman’s line after a big catch, he had understood his mother’s fear. Panic had set in quickly after he could barely see the path in front of him, knowing he had veered off of it as he stumbled over roots and fallen branches, knees and palms taking the brunt of his falls.  
  
When Iruka had come across the cabin, he had felt nothing but the purest relief. He felt overjoyed, even though his welcome was less than warm. The dogs did not trust him at first, but he had crouched down and pulled out the jerky he’d taken with him as a peace offering. Several of the smaller ones came forwards, tentative but still taking the proffered meat. One dog in particular, with circular markings around his eyes took a shining to Iruka, staying by the man’s side as he stoked the fire and sat in the foreign bed. He had hoped to wait up for the cabin’s owner, but feeling warm--and safe--for the first time in hours lulled him into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
Shaking his head and grabbing a thick sweater, Iruka pulled it on over his tunic, reaching for the leather band on his bedside table that he then used to tie his hair back at the nape of his neck. He shrugged on a thick coat made of fur, collar pulled tight around his neck. A hat was next, made from the pelt of a beaver, and he tugged on his gloves as well to combat the chill that had begun to seep into his bones. Checking his satchel, Iruka decided to bring a book for himself as well as a small pad of paper, along with ink and several of his “bad” quills so the fur trapper could practice writing the alphabet. Slinging the beaten brown bag over his shoulder, Iruka left the small house on the outskirts of town, giant wall looming overhead nary twenty yards away. The sun had just begun to break through the fog, a ghostly orange blooming brighter as it rose higher in the sky with every passing minute.  
  
Other families were just now waking up with the first reaches of the sun. Iruka saw several children in front of their homes feeding the livestock--mainly chickens--and mothers preparing breakfast through the hazy windows. Some cast him halfhearted glances, curious as to where the new priest was headed. Iruka could count the number that waved to him on one hand, although the children were much more effusive in their greetings. The parents were suspicious of the newcomer, even though a month had almost passed. All the nearby towns required two day’s worth of travel to reach, but he had made no mention of his final destination, only that he would return by Sunday to give mass. The guards kept silent watch from up on high, judgement in their concealed faces hidden by the rough hewn stone wall that towered above the town.  
  
Iruka strode through the gates as confidently as he could, doubt creeping into the edges of his subconscious the same way the light of the sun began to break through the clouds, bisected by the bastion Iruka walked beside. It was cold in the shadow of the wall, and the priest pulled his coat tighter around himself as he followed the trail leading away from Konoha and into the forest. He had a good memory, of that he was sure, but the path to the strange man’s cabin was nonexistent, surviving only in his brain. And some fearful part of him knew the cabin’s isolated location was purposeful, laying deep in the tangles of trees that men feared to enter. But whether that was to protect the other man or to protect others, Iruka did not know, and was not in any hurry to find out.  
  
The morning light was clear, pure in the way it filtered through low-lying branches, casting dappled shadows onto the blanket of fallen leaves. They had once been a gradient of yellows and reds, illuminating the pathway into Konoha. Now, their once vibrant colors had faded, decomposing along with the end of their season into a murky, earthy brown, with only hints of the colors they had once been. Iruka could see frost lining the edges of the trail as he crested the hill, breath coming out in pants that dissipated into the crisp air. That was not the best sign; if the frost had yet to melt it meant snow was coming soon and autumn had finally given way to what was bound to be a brutal and cold winter.  
  
It was already late in the morning, the sun hanging overhead like a piece of ripe fruit and telling Iruka to pick up his pace if he hoped to reach the secluded cabin before nightfall. Readjusting his satchel, Iruka peered into the trees to his right. Shadows filled the forest, trees dense in a way that instilled a primal fear deep in the priest’s heart. Branches moved in the periphery of his vision as he walked parallel to the pines, dancing light playing at the edges of Iruka’s vision. There were things in the woods, and after his last encounter--and the promise he made that was about to land him a good five hours southwest of Konoha--Iruka could not be sure if they were human or not.  
His first steps off the path were tentative as a baby deer. Frightening himself with the twigs that snapped underfoot, Iruka continued, slow and steady through the trees that grew in every direction. The light that made it through the compact canopy was harsh, too bright against the stark black that lay around every corner. And the further in he ventured, the darker his surroundings became.To be fair, Iruka had only the faintest idea of where he was headed, remembering the solitary fallen tree that he had seen along the side of the dirt footpath that led to Konoha when he had finally met up with it. Gnarled roots towered above him as he climbed over the thick trunk in his path, pausing for a moment to whip his head around. There was no way to be sure that the direction he had chosen to walk in was correct, but the teacher continued regardless, trusting his innate sixth sense; The sense that typically lay dormant, activated only in situations of primal fear for moments when every millisecond counted.  
  
That sense remained heightened as Iruka made his way through the thick underbrush, trying not to think of the informal nickname all Konoha residents referred to it by: the Forest of Death. Ducking under branches, he slowly trudged through the trees that grew closer together the deeper in he ventured, limbs crossing over one another and forming a tangled canopy above him that blocked out the otherwise bright light of the sun.  
  
It was slow going, trees growing so close together that the priest had to slide sideways between them, branches catching and threatening to rip his clothing. Direction was lost in the woods, left to the animals that called it their home. The valleys were a point of confusion to those unfamiliar with them, and Iruka began to climb one, chancing a glance above him. Although he could not see that ageless celestial body in the sky, the quality of light was strained in the same way his eyes were, meaning that night would fall soon. And, once darkness had surrounded him any chance he had of surviving to see the following morning became nonexistent. There was an edge of encroaching panic the priest could feel, adrenaline numbing Iruka’s arms and face from feeling the sharp twigs that scratched against them, drawing blood in several places.  
  
His heart rate had begun to soar, loud enough to hear the dull roar in his ears when Iruka finished climbing up the hill. Relief washed over him as he saw the familiar clearing hidden away, patches of green still punctuating the otherwise colorless landscape. Remembering the strange man’s advice, Iruka cut straight down into the valley below, hiking down at a pace faster than was safe, strides larger than usual and increasing his risk of tumbling down the hill and into the meadow below. As he passed the plots of grass, he noticed odd shapes peeking out from the ground that had turned hard from the cold. Walking closer, Iruka blanched when he realized they were bones. Human bones, at that, if the familiarity of the shapes were not a figment of his imagination.  
  
There was still flesh clinging onto the fractured skeletons that punctuated the the dirt, fingers discernable and reaching out even in death. Jagged white points broke through the half frozen ground where long bones had been snapped in half--Iruka saw the head of a femur and felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck and forehead. What was capable of breaking such a robust bone, he did not know and did not want to find out. And what were they doing on Kakashi’s land? Swallowing down his fear, Iruka continued across the glen, catching glimpses of other dismembered limbs poking out at unnatural angles, all in differing states of decomposition.  
  
There was a meager plume of smoke curling out of the chimney, dissipating into nothingness once it hit the crisp outside air. None of the dogs could be seen, but Iruka knew they were most likely waiting inside alongside their owner. The solitary chair was in the same place it had been last, wood shavings littering the space around it. Even though he knew the door had no lock, Iruka knocked regardless, waiting patiently on the porch as the sun set behind his back.

  


Kakashi had just returned from hunting, dropping off the deer carcass in his shed and rinsing the blood off of himself in the creek, but not before letting Uhei and Guruko into the warm building. They ran inside, curling up with the other dogs in their pile on their owner’s bed, exhausted from their efforts. Setting his bow down by the door, Kakashi turned to head downhill towards the lazy rivulet. Looking up, he could see snow on the mountaintops, which explained why the usually bubbling creek was now just a trickle as the water on the top of the ridge to the north froze. He stripped, careful to fold his clothes and set them on a rock worn smooth from time and weather. Red bled off him into the water, hands returning to their pale state as Kakashi washed the dirt from under his fingernails. He even dipped his head under the water, holding his breath for a prolonged moment as he let the low rumble of the stream fill his ears and drown out his senses.  
  
It was not long before he was clean again, if not cold from the freezing temperature of the water. Shaking his head in a manner not unlike a dog, Kakashi walked up the small embankment onto the rocks. He did not wait to redress himself, wanting to trap whatever heat he could. Leaving off his coat, he made his way back to the cabin, opening the door and feeling a small wave of heat from the cinders that still burned in the hearth so they could be renewed.  
  
Entering the cabin, Kakashi closed the door tightly behind himself and walked over to the embers of the dying fire that were glowing a faint orange, pleading for more wood to fuel them. As he laid another log in the fireplace, a timid knock sounded out. All heads--nine canine and one human--whipped around to the source of the noise and Kakashi stood up, brushing the dust off of his hands. Walking over to the door, he grabbed the hunting knife laying on the table and slid it into his belt, where it was easily accessible. Kakashi usually had no one to expect, and old habits were always the last ones to die.  
  
He pulled the door open with one hand, wood moving and creaking until it revealed a familiar face hiding behind it. Father Umino was standing on Kakashi’s porch, both hands clasping the strap of his satchel, worrying at the old leather as he waited for the stranger to let him in. His brown ponytail was disheveled from the trek through the trees where branches had caught the delicate strands. A pink flush rode high up on his cheeks, a reminder of the cold winds that howled around the isolated cabin, weaving through the trees and buffeting the old logs. Kakashi noted several scratches on the priest’s cheekbones, highlighting the old scar that spanned the width of the bridge of his nose.  
  
“May I come inside?” Iruka asked after a pregnant pause, eyes darting to look everywhere but the other man’s. Another moment passed before Kakashi nodded and stepped to the side, allowing the priest to enter. As soon as Iruka set foot in the cabin, door promptly closed behind him to keep in the warmth of the fire, he was mobbed by the dogs. Tails wagged as they sniffed him everywhere they could reach, curious about the newcomer but remembering his scent as the kind man that had given them tasty morsels they were otherwise denied. Biscuit’s tail in particular was making circles through the air, thumping against the other dog’s and beating a tattoo against Iruka’s leg from where he stood next to the man, eyes gazing up in adoration.  
  
Kakashi felt a pang of something reverberate through his chest-- _Jealousy_ , he thought but could not be certain of--at the ease with which Father Umino was welcomed by his dogs. He did not want to scare the priest away, but living alone for so long had made Kakashi forget most of the basic forms of human interaction. Standing there idly for a moment, he found his voice.  
  
“Can I offer you anything, Father? I know the journey here is not a short one,” Kakashi said, watching the priest whip his head away from the dogs and giving the stranger his complete attention.  
  
“I would appreciate a glass of water, if it is not too much trouble?” The silver-haired man turned away, walking a short distance to the small table that held a jug and several glasses. He was not wearing a scarf this time, and Iruka could almost see the full extent of his scars, silver skin running a jagged course across his angular face and down his neck. If he were to be honest with himself, Iruka would admit that he had been terrified to return to this forgotten pocket of the forest. Every cell of his body screamed at him to get out, to leave the cabin and take his chances in the woods, that there was a practical stranger in this cabin with him that he was certain could kill him in ways worse than even his vast and vivid imagination could conjure--but another larger part of him was curious. He knew of no one else that lived outside of town--it was taboo as much as dangerous--and there was _something_ about this stranger that called to him.  
  
Iruka might be kind, but he was no fool. He knew returning to the home of a man who had been covered in blood was not his brightest idea, yet he returned regardless, hiking through hours of knotted roots and rotting leaves. An awkward moment passed as he was handed a rough mug of water, muttering his thanks before asking the question on the forefront of his mind.  
  
“I left previously before catching your name, Sir,” Iruka said, voice pitched low as to not offend. The other man barked out a laugh at this new, tentative priest that had surfaced now that greeting the dogs had come and gone.  
  
“My name is Kakashi Hatake,” He said, taking a seat in one of the two chairs pulled up next to the raging fire, “Although I am surprised none of the villagers made you privy to that information; They’re gossips, the lot of them.” Knowing the man’s name only deepened the sense of mystery, since none of the residents of Konoha had told Iruka when he had inquired. Any villager he asked had muttered something about bad luck and walked away, not wanting to have anything to do with the man that chose to live outside their safe walls. Kakashi wore a bemused grin as Iruka attempted to formulate his next thought.  
  
“I brought some primers with me, if you still wish to learn how to read,” The priest said, pulling his satchel onto his lap. It looked heavy to Kakashi and he could spy an extra shirt tucked into the bottom of the bag, which he took in with a quirked brow, which Iruka saw. “Might I spend the night? The journey back is much too long to begin after dark.” He seemed terrified at the prospect of Kakashi denying his request, sending him back out into the wilderness to be hunted down. Kakashi felt an odd pang of...something for the other man. Fear? Concern? He could not place the feeling, but knew one way to rid himself of it.  
  
“It would be the least I can do since you are being so kind as to tutor me,” Lips twitching from a snarl into a smirk, Kakashi continued his sentence, “Although I cannot say what kind of student I’ll be.” There was mirth in his tone, but the steely expression he wore suggested otherwise and Iruka wondered what he himself might learn as well if this exchange he had made for his life continued. He had not been told so explicitly, but Iruka could only guess what would have happened had Kakashi been in a worse mood the night he had found the cabin.  
  
A pregnant pause filled the air, no sounds but the crackling of the fire and the dogs as they settled into their spots for the night. Kakashi seemed to be on edge to the priest, eyes flitting everywhere and nowhere at once as the muscles in his forearms jumped, twitching with his discomfort. Not wanting to be the one to break the silence, Iruka waited, standing with arms clasped loosely in front of him. After a moment, the fur trapper shook his head, shaggy grey hair fanning out around it in a ghastly imitation of a halo. Standing up, he pulled one of the two chairs he owned by the fire.  
  
“Please, sit and forgive my rudeness. I will return shortly,” Kakashi said, darting out of his front door to retrieve the other rickety chair from the porch, making sure to blow the wood shavings covering the seat off outside. It was the first time in his long life that he had entertained and it showed, movements unwieldy as he maneuvered the chair inside. Iruka was perched on the edge of his seat, back ramrod straight.  
  
There were thin books on the priest’s lap, leather bindings peeking out from between the tan fingers that held them. The thickest one at the bottom of the stack was embossed in gold, stylized letters spelling out something Kakashi could not read with a flourish. Dragging the chair over to the fire, he set it down facing Iruka and added several logs to the blaze. It was pitch black outside now, a darkness so profound it swallowed everything without discrimination, even the light from the fire. Inside the small cabin, however, it was almost cozy, cut off from the horrors that lay in the woods just outside the cabin’s front door. Both men tried to hide their unease, shifting as quietly as possible in the stiff wooden chairs. It was Iruka who spoke up first, voice sounding much too loud in the isolated space.  
  
“Here,” He murmured, passing Kakashi what looked to be the oldest primer if the battered edges were anything to go by. The small book was only a smidge larger than his oversized hands, red leather cover worn smooth along the spine from numerous little fingers that had held it open in wonder at the new world they would be able to unlock through hard work. Kakashi, however, stared at it with a healthy dose of apprehension as he leafed through the yellowed pages. There were crude illustrations that helped the illiterate man understand the tale--something to do with dragons and giants--but the words just looked like a tangle of symbols akin to the way the roots of trees grew over one another this deep into the forest. “This text is the simplest, and it also contains the alphabet at the beginning. We should begin there.”  
  
Iruka reached back into his rucksack, rummaging around for a moment before he procured several sheets of blank parchment, a quill, and a well-sealed inkwell. There was a crude table to his left, and Iruka drug it over in front of Kakashi, who was watching with rapt interest. The solitary man had never seen either writing instrument and was enthralled, though a bit apprehensive. It seemed so daunting that Kakashi wondered if he would ever learn or if he would forever be stuck in the past for the rest of his too long life. He worried at the thought like a toothache, coming back to sink himself deeper into the darkness of his subconscious until Iruka addressed him once more.  
  
“Mr. Hatake, Sir?” The man in question whipped his head around upon hearing his name, fixing the priest and personal tutor with a piercing stare. Iruka was ill prepared for the attention, and felt his cheeks begin to flush as he continued, “We’ll start with writing first. Once you know how to write and you have a grasp of the alphabet, reading will come. I know it seems difficult at first, but if you truly apply yourself, you will surpass your goals easily.” His smile was warm, and Kakashi felt his heart skip a beat at the comforting expression. The priest oozed kindness in a way Kakashi was unaccustomed to, but found himself craving. Perhaps being alone was not the best solution after all if this was the other option. But, he rationalized just as quickly, corners of his lips falling, this was the first person who had shown him any extent of courtesy since his father had passed. The priest was only here because he had made a deal--one for his life, even if he had not realized it yet. Humans were the same, after all.  
  
Iruka could sense his pupil’s apprehension coming off of him in waves, feeling the tension that made Kakashi sit ramrod straight, brows drawn and considering the book in front of him. The priest had taught his fair share of students, although none had been this old. One thing the fur trapper was not counting on, however, was Iruka’s tenacity: If the priest said he was going to do something, he would. And he would see it through to the end, no matter how long that took.  
  
“Here,” Iruka said softly. Holding out the quill, he waited for Kakashi to take it, paying attention to which hand he used, “Are you left handed?” Silence filled the small cabin. Kakashi’s eyes were hard, protective and Iruka quickly backpedaled, trying his hardest to win a modicum of trust from the wild man beside him.  
  
“I’m not going to force you to use your right hand. The church labels those who use their left hand as sinners and morally compromised, but if that is the side you favor, is it not simply that? I would be a cruel teacher to punish you for such a trivial matter,” Iruka finished, waiting for his student to do or say anything. A long pause was broken by Kakashi muttering, Iruka barely able to hear it over the combination of dogs snoring and the fire crackling as the wind whistled past the chimney.  
  
“Thank you,” Kakashi began, opening and closing his mouth several times before he continued, voice quiet enough that Iruka had to strain his ears to hear, “No one ever thought to teach me. And my father never knew how to read, either.” His good eye was hardened, but Iruka thought that their arrangement could work, and the fur trapper would be reading on his own by the new year. _As long as the weather is willing_ , Iruka’s mind reminded him.  
  
“I’ll continue to return as long as it takes,” Iruka said, ernest. He watched as Kakashi’s eyes widened, surprise evident in every cell of his face.  
  
“I look forward to it,” Kakashi responded after a moment where he tried to read the priest. When he realized the other was being serious, he began anew, trying to remember his manners, “Where shall we start?”

  


The stars were bright pinpoints of light in the sky, moon waxing larger when the two men decided to stop for the night. Kakashi was thoroughly confused and only a little bit angry with himself for not picking up the letters faster. He could now write the first five of the twenty six symbols that Iruka had told him made up the alphabet, but that was not enough. The priest promised him that they would try again tomorrow.  
  
“If you keep this pace, you will know them all within a fortnight,” Iruka said, trying to cheer up the other man.  
  
“Yes,” Kakashi started, “But you will not be here nearly as long.” The priest tensed. Kakashi had made no mention of allowing the other to stay longer than the night, but that sounded like an invitation to Iruka.  
  
“And how long are you intending I stay? I should remind you that I do have a mass to lead early Sunday morning.” It was Tuesday now. The journey home took a solid day of travel to factor in, so that meant he could leave at first light Saturday morning at the absolute latest.  
  
“I suppose however long you wish to teach me,” Kakashi answered, cryptic. He would never admit it, but he enjoyed the priest’s company. It was so rare to meet someone who not only looked past his grisly appearance but who could also look beyond his standoffish nature. At this point, it was part and parcel of who he was, and the adopted demeanor helped protect him from the cruelty of others. Iruka, however, acted as though Kakashi’s company was a gift, and the fur trapper could not tell if it was due to his innate kindness, or if he truly saw the other man as an acquaintance. Kakashi hoped it was the latter.  
“Is until Friday too long? With how quickly you are picking things up, it should be enough time to teach you the alphabet,” Iruka’s brow wrinkled as he thought, eyes distant, “We can pick up from where we left off next week.”  
  
“Next week?” Kakashi said, half teasing, “Eager to see me again so soon, Father Umino?” Iruka’s cheeks flooded with color and the priest began to sputter slightly as Kakashi chuckled, hiding a grin behind a calloused hand.  
  
“Constant practice is the fastest way to knowledge,” Iruka said after taking a moment to collect himself, “Unless that would be too much of an imposition on you, Mr. Hatake.” Nose wrinkling at the name, the fur trapper leaned back in his chair, lazily crossing his legs. A dark look flitted across his face for the briefest of moments.  
  
“Please, forget your formality here. That is my father’s name, not mine.” Whatever rapport Iruka had begun to build was not in jeopardy, per se, but instead strained at the mention. He had noticed Kakashi’s wistfulness at the fleeting mention of his father, but Iruka had not realized the full extent of emotion the fur trapper still held regarding the man. Suddenly, the small space seemed even more confined, almost suffocating in its isolation from any portal to the outside world. Silence seemed to fill the room until it was fit to bursting, both men staring into the dwindling fire as it sputtered, orange embers glowing with hidden power.  
  
Iruka took this time to look around the cabin in more detail. On his previous visit he had been so tired that taking in his surroundings was the last thing on his mind. Although it was dark, the flames lent him enough light to see the majority of the singular room. All nine dogs were curled up together in a pile on top of the furs that made up Kakashi’s haphazard bed. There were small pieces of wood next to it that looked like branches: thicker ones that split off of the trunk near the bottom of the tree where they grew, about as big around as Iruka’s wrist. One was in the middle of being carved, a wooden fox bursting forth from pine and into reality. A sharp whittling knife rested against the wall closest to what would be called the headboard, silver blade flickering in and out of Iruka’s vision along with the waning and waxing of the flames. Patterns of shadow flitted across the steep slope of the ceiling, curving around the exposed wooden beams and finding a home in the darkest corners of the cabin.  
  
Kakashi was staring into the dying flames, deep in thought. The warm glow of the embers illuminated his angular face, highlighting the grey of his eyelashes when he blinked, the mole below his full bottom lip hidden in shadows. He looked tired, but not in the normal way that came from work or lack of sleep. No, this was a special brand of exhaustion that drew its strength from Kakashi’s very soul, casting its tendrils everywhere into the man’s existence. Iruka was overcome with empathy for the other man. When was the last time he had had a visitor? He seemed excited at the prospect and was more than a gracious host, if not a bit awkward.  
  
“Do you...come into town often?” Iruka asked, breaking the silence. Although it was dark out, it was still early, and the priest wanted to know as much about Kakashi as he would tell him. Blinking owlishly, Kakashi looked up. If Iruka were to guess, the other’s surprise was because he had forgotten that he was not alone.  
  
“It depends on the season, but I make the journey every two months or so,” Kakashi said after a handful of seconds had passed, “Although it also depends on my provisions.” Iruka nodded, sage smile on his face.  
  
“Will you visit again before the new year?”  
  
“I doubt so. I just bought more dry goods on my last trip and I do my own hunting. You have to, this far out,” Kakashi answered, curiosity tinting his voice. The priest looked a bit crestfallen at his answer, but Kakashi could not comprehend why. If he were to pay the priest a visit, the townspeople would only ostracize Iruka further. He had made no mention that they had, but they were as a whole distrustful of change and of newcomers. That was how they survived, after all. If Kakashi had to guess, the priest’s enthusiasm was part and parcel of his newfound isolation that would hopefully begin to fade in the coming months as the children and parents alike warmed up to him. There were no qualms in his mind that they would realize Iruka’s propensity for kindness sooner rather than later.  
  
“If you need any more provisions, please let me know,” Iruka began, “It is no trouble to bring them when I come to tutor you.” Eyes widening, Kakashi stared at the priest in disbelief. There was no reason for him to be this caring, yet here he was, asking the fur trapper if he would be alright. Kakashi bit back a harsh laugh, wanting to inform the other man that he had been living in these woods for close to seventy five years now and he did not need a human’s help thank you very much. He wanted to tell Iruka that he was the thing mothers cautioned their children about, one of the creatures the church classified as an abomination, the monster that had always been hiding in the recesses of the woods--but as much as he wanted to lighten his soul by sharing his burden, he knew that he could not. It was dangerous enough for the priest to venture practically to hell and back to see him without making him privy to the darkest secret a man could hold.  
  
“Thank you, Father Umino,” Kakashi said after a long pause where he had been far away, wrapped up in his mind. His voice was softer than the priest had heard yet, and Iruka wondered if he had said or done something wrong. He hoped that reading the other man would become easier, since he did not know how Kakashi felt about most things, nor what the fur trapper was entirely capable of. More than he was, that was for sure considering the other man lived alone and further into the woods than anyone Iruka had known to venture willingly.  
  
“I would hate to see you suffering in any way, especially one that is so preventable as hunger,” Iruka said, attention on the novel he held in his hands. He flipped the pages with no sense of direction, fiddling with the thin paper as a heavy silence filled the confined space.  
  
Meanwhile, Kakashi was staring at Iruka with a mix of awe and astonishment, trying to find a name for exactly what he might be feeling. The last time he had consistent company was when his father was alive, and some bastion of repressed humanity in him craved the interaction. Yes, Kakashi Hatake had acquaintances, but when both of you are effectively immortal, the visits are few and far in between. Kakashi was hesitant to label Iruka as a friend quite yet. It was that hesitation that shone through to Iruka, who began to fidget in his hard wooden chair.  
  
“You are far kinder than I deserve,” Kakashi said in his rough voice, husky from the cold and low volume at which he spoke. A miniscule twitch of the lips was the only hint Iruka could see that the fur trapper was amused and not angry. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, finally looking at Kakashi.  
  
“And what if kindness is what you deserve?”  
  
“I am not sure about that, Father. But thank you for believing in such a thing.” Dark eyes softened as they took in Iruka’s gentle yet fierce expression. There was a fire burning inside of him and Kakashi could see why the man had chosen a life of theology. If Iruka’s benevolent God was the accepted canon then the fur trapper would have no qualms living as a religious man. However, the one he had grown up knowing would not hesitate to send him to hell at the earliest convenience.  
  
“All humans are entitled to happiness and at least some good will! Even you, Kakashi, isolated as you are,” Iruka said. He looked fierce, eyes glittering with the desire to help the man in front of him. _It might take time, but I will show him that I am a friend_ , Iruka thought, vowing to himself. He did allow himself a smile after Kakashi graced him with one, scar pulling upwards and puckering the skin on the left side of his angular face.  
  
It was a sad smile that did not quite reach Kakashi’s unseeing eye, more wistful than any other emotion Iruka could place. Still, the priest couldn’t help but feel a tug at his heart, caught in the mystery and suave exterior Kakashi carried without trying. Iruka knew he was interested in the other man, but was uncertain about what exactly he was interested in. Although he may have been a man of God and a teacher at that, it had been a long time since he’d felt any spark--any connection no matter how ephemeral--and call it a bad decision, but Iruka kept returning back to the crux of the matter like a wound that continued to fester even though it had been cleaned and wrapped. Kakashi was an anomaly, yet there was something about him that was new. Iruka did not even mind the occasional rudeness as the fur trapper became accustomed to sharing his space since it revealed a softer side of the other man.  
  
It was like earning a wild animal’s trust, Iruka realized as he stared into the fire, unblinking in his epiphany and trying to stifle a grin at the comparison. Shaking his head, he stole a glance to his right at the other man, eyes following the path of Kakashi’s scar as it snaked down his face, neck, and onto his chest. All Iruka could hope was that he would be deemed trustworthy, but how long that might take, he did not know.

  


Iruka woke with a start Friday morning as an unfamiliar sensation roused him from his slumber. Blinking, he opened sleep-heavy eyes only to be met with a familiar canine’s face, the brown rings around Biscuit’s eyes visible even in the dark of the small room. The first tendrils of the sun were breaking through the thick canopy of trees that surrounded them, bathing the cabin and meadow in soft light. Sitting up in his pile of furs next to the hearth, Iruka glanced over to the fur trapper’s bed, but there was no sign of Kakashi, seeing as the remaining dogs were piled into his spot. Sadness washed over the priest as he got up, peeling off the many furs stacked on top of him to tend to the fire. He had noticed where Kakashi kept his store of food earlier in the week and retrieved some barley to make a simple porridge.  
  
Iruka stared into the flames as they jumped back to life, illuminating his face, eyes downcast and mouth curved into a whisper of a frown. The beginning of the week had gone well--so well, in fact, that Iruka had been taken aback. Though it had not been without some hardship, Kakashi had mastered most of the alphabet already, and Iruka thought he might be able to handle reading at the most basic of levels. Although he had been tentative at first, the fur trapper was a model student, applying himself more diligently than most of the children Iruka taught. However, it was not meant to last.  
  
The past two days Kakashi had grown distant, becoming more irritated with himself when he did not understand concepts immediately. He was starting to be bothered by Iruka’s presence as well. The priest had caught him staring, unblinking, with a grim sense of resignation on his face. Stirring the porridge, Iruka let himself stew in his thoughts as he pulled up a chair next to the bubbling pot. Anything he did was met with resistance, and last night Kakashi had said barely a word to him after their tutoring session, even though Iruka had tried to start a conversation. He was genuinely interested in hearing about the other man’s past but, at this rate, he doubted he ever would.  
  
Iruka was petting Biscuit absentmindedly when Kakashi came through the front door with several skinned rabbits in tow, Akino and Shiba on his heels. The weak sunlight backlit him, making him seem larger than life for a moment before he walked through the entrance, shrugging off the bow slung across his shoulders. Tense silence filled the room as the dogs walked over to Iruka, tails wagging. He happily pet the two newcomers as he stirred their breakfast, never taking his eyes of the ceramic vessel. Back stiff, Iruka kept his attention on the hearth, staring blank faced into the weakening flames.  
  
Behind him, Kakashi frowned when Iruka gave no greeting or even an indication that the fur trapper was in the same room as him. Shrugging off his heavy coat and throwing it onto the crevice of empty space on the bed, Kakashi closed the door behind him with a heavy thud. He had woken up much earlier than usual, moonlight streaming in through one of two windows in his home and landing in a bright slice across his face, scar itching in the cold pre-dawn, when the air was still and cruel, filled with ancient secrets willingly gifted to anyone prepared to listen for them. The giant hunk of rock in the sky was blinding in the indigo darkness that was the sky this late at night, barely visible over the canopy of trees and mocking him with its roundness, so close to being full that, had he been human, he would have thought the moon was already at its zenith in the pitch black. There were two days left until a full moon would grace them with its presence, and Kakashi wanted Iruka safe inside the walls of Konoha before then. He knew what came out of the woodwork of the forest then, and there were more dangerous creatures than just himself.  
  
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, not certain if he was more upset with himself for his affliction or that he had to send Iruka away, even if it was for the other’s safety. Kakashi had forgotten what it meant to have company in the six decades or so he had been on his own, only interacting with humans should he need something. If Sakumo Hatake, Kakashi’s father, had taught him anything it was to be wary and trust no one but himself. And had he not heeded those words for all these empty years? He may not be an abomination just yet, but he was no saint. Kakashi Hatake was no idiot, either.  
  
Shivering, he went through every scenario that could occur should Iruka stay, but all of them were less than favorable. If the priest stayed through the full moon, there was no certainty that he would not try to leave the cabin, and Kakashi could not trust himself whatsoever. Konoha might even blame Iruka should there be another killing, which would only serve to ostracize him further from the already terrified community. And, worst of all, if Iruka left too late, there was a chance that Kakashi might catch up to him in the dead of night, when the moon was high and pulled out the beast that lay dormant inside of him. Kakashi had no qualms about killing men, but the thought of any harm coming to this one in particular made his stomach churn, acid eating at his insides and filling the void he had once held in his chest.  
  
“You should leave soon,” Kakashi said after a pregnant pause, standing stiff just beyond the doorway. There was one sharp inhale before Iruka whipped around, fixing the fur trapper with a stare that pinned him to the spot. His eyes were hardened, but with what, Kakashi could not yet tell. He only hoped he would have another opportunity to find out.  
  
“As you wish,” Iruka said, turning his attention back to the porridge. He stirred it one final time before pulling the pot out of the fire with a rag, standing up. “Breakfast is ready.” It was hard not to sound bitter when being sent away, he thought, breaths coming in shudders. Keeping his back to Kakashi, Iruka began to pack up his things, beginning with the primers and ending with the spare shirt he had brought. Iruka wanted to laugh at his optimism, but the sound would not leave his throat. At this point in the still, early morning, he was not hungry and the very thought of even a bland meal made his tongue feel like ash in his mouth.  
  
The fur trapper walked over to the hearth, sitting down in the unforgiving wooden chair Iruka had not been occupying. He retrieved two wooden bowls and spoons--the only ones in his possession--and began to dole out portions. When he turned to give Iruka his, the other man was already standing in front of the door, hand on the iron loop to open it. Kakashi’s eyes widened at the hurt in Iruka’s, but it was too late to make amends now.  
  
“Forgive me, but I fear I cannot eat this early,” A lie, yet Iruka could not bear to tell the truth. “I will take my leave, Hatake, Sir. Thank you for hosting me for so long a time.” There was a hollow creak as the door swung inwards and Iruka ducked out.  
  
“Wait!” Kakashi called, shooting up out of his seat and taking two large steps towards the door before his brain caught up with his mouth or actions. “When will you return?” The priest paused on the scrap of wood that was the porch, allowing himself one final glance, turning his head as far as his neck would allow. Kakashi’s face was something awful: pale, mouth twisted into a grimace and eyes darting about, trying to catch some cue from Iruka’s expression. When he could not, his broad shoulders slumped and the large man looked defeated. It was not something Iruka had seen yet. Even when the fur trapper was frustrated beyond repair with the letters he tried to memorize, sounding each out with a ferocity not unlike a stubborn child, Kakashi still held an undercurrent of strong will. Of some bone deep tenacity Iruka wished he possessed and was sure allowed the fur trapper to live out in these barrens by his lonesome.  
  
Iruka felt pity. He felt remorse, but he knew when he was unwanted. Reaching for his satchel, Iruka slung it over his head until it rested on his right shoulder, the familiar weight of the leather and his belongings pressing against his left hip. Turning slowly, he tried to harden his expression into one of firm resolve, but hopefully without any of the underlying sting he felt at Kakashi’s dismissal. The priest did not need a mirror to know that his face was uncooperative, betraying and broadcasting his hurt more effectively than he would ever be able to articulate. Kakashi looked on, stunned as his eyebrows drew together, pained and unable to pinpoint why.  
  
“If it does not snow, in a fortnight’s time,” Iruka said, tone curt. His voice sounded far away and a hint watery even to his own ears. “If it does snow so early, I am afraid I might have to wait until spring, for I cannot make such a journey in a day if there is inclement weather to worry about as well.” Stopping there, Iruka took a deep breath, exhale leaving his mouth like a plume of smoke would a dragon’s gaping maw. Kakashi stood still as stone, one arm reaching in front of him mindlessly, as if controlled by something other than his own body. Iruka had changed his mind after all, saying now that he would come a week later than before. And after that? Would the time increase exponentially in a manner that Kakashi would not notice until it had been half a year that he had not had any company?  
  
There was no easy way to make Iruka privy to his... _condition_ , that Kakashi knew in every cell of his body, right down to the greasy marrow of his bones. It was a secret that could not be half told; it was the entire sad story or absolutely nothing. And, at the moment, Kakashi thought it more important to protect the priest, young and green as he was in his new position at Konoha’s church. A part of his primal brain knew he could trust the other man. Wanted to, even. It could sense the kindness radiating from the human in waves, craving nothing more than to know the reason behind his moved up departure date.  
  
Both of Kakashi’s eyes were hard, dark things. His good eye--the right one--glittered like a black diamond in its socket, framed by sweeping pale grey eyelashes that were more suited to a woman, brushing angular cheekbones when Kakashi blinked. The scarred eye followed its twin, staring a hole through Iruka where it pinned him with its unseeing gaze. It was milky white, punctuated only by the darkness of its iris, filmy black compared to the other. A large slash went through it, continuing down onto Kakashi’s chest, which was visible through the unbuttoned top of his peasant shirt. Iruka had tried to contain his curiosity, but he could not quash the desire to truly see the extent of the damage as his eyes followed the grisly path downwards.  
  
Gnarled flesh had knotted together in large rounded rhomboid shapes resembling a deep pass of a sharp knife or something far worse. Iruka had seen hunting casualties up close when performing last rites several times in his old village, but those wounds were nowhere near as large as the ones on the trapper’s chest. These were roughly the size of his palm, evenly spaced and suggesting an animal. However, Iruka could not remember ever seeing one as big as the ones that would have caused the trauma Kakashi still carried. And he did not want to think about how big the creature’s paws would need to be to cause such grievous gouges. Did it happen when he was here by his lonesome? Or had his father still been around? It was a miracle that Kakashi was alive.  
  
Iruka almost wanted to inquire about what had happened, but he knew the question would go unanswered. The other man seemed to maintain his distance, even though Iruka wanted nothing more than to befriend him. It was not right, he thought, for someone to live so far away from other people without having company from time to time. The solitude could drive anyone to madness over time: starting with insidious thoughts and slowly morphing into something malignant, staining reality so gradually that the person affected could not even tell when they had begun to fall into a spiral of delusion. Kakashi seemed sane enough, but the drastic switch in temperament frightened the priest, who sensed that all was not as it seemed.  
  
“I will pray for good weather for your sake, then.” Kakashi opened his mouth and scrunched his brow before shutting it, only to start a tentative inquiry. “There may be several things I will need from town before the winter. If I do come into Konoha...might I visit?” The question sounded like it pained Kakashi to ask it, yet he did so. It was worth it, he noted, when Iruka gave him a warm smile in return. There was the man he had come to know. Although Kakashi held a wildness in him, he was kind at his core.  
  
“You are always welcome. Please know that.” Iruka said, switching the weight to his left foot, hip cocked out to support the satchel leaning against his body. Kakashi gave him a wan smile in return that did not quite reach his eyes. _He looks pale_ , Iruka thought, _Will he be alright if I leave him?_ Iruka opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly. Worry crimped his face but he decided to respect Kakashi’s wishes.  
  
“I should take my leave before I waste any more light.”  
  
“Please...be careful. And travel swiftly; There is something out there, as I am sure you know.” Kakashi said, something dark overtaking the expression he wore for a brief moment. A shudder ripped down the priest’s spine at Kakashi’s admonition. Iruka couldn’t help but wonder if Kakashi had seen it, but decided quickly that some things he was better off not knowing. Nodding, he reached for the door, glancing behind himself the same way Orpheus had gazed upon Eurydice’s face one final time before it had been ripped away. Iruka prayed to his God and any god listening that he might see his new friend once more, hopefully before the harsh onset of winter’s icy grip. Kakashi’s voice followed him as he exited into the wilderness once more.  
  
“Godspeed, Father Umino.”


End file.
